


Drowning In a Deep Devotion

by oneforyourfire



Series: Suho Birthday Sextravaganza [3]
Category: Chinese Actor RPF, EXO (Band)
Genre: M/M, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-13
Updated: 2017-05-13
Packaged: 2018-10-31 08:16:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10895346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oneforyourfire/pseuds/oneforyourfire
Summary: He's too caught up in the romance of their beach getaway, in the promise of Yifan's golden, salt- and sand- and home- and freedom- and escape-scented skin. (aka krisho beach parking lot shenanigans au)





	Drowning In a Deep Devotion

**Author's Note:**

> warnings: rimming, me sincerely not knowing what i'm doing
> 
>  
> 
> [didn't heed the warning signs, threw the flares into the ocean, gave them to waves this time~](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=itiCcu3kWxQ)

Yifan's skin is golden, achingly soft, smells like salt, like sand, like the sea, like home or freedom or maybe an escape. 

It makes desire lodge itself in Joonmyun’s throat, has his hands stumbling over all the offensive fabric in the way.

He's too caught up in the romance of their beach getaway, in the promise of Yifan's golden, salt- and sand- and home- and freedom- and escape-scented skin.

And there’s traces of sand on his skin still as Joonmyun peels Yifan’s shorts down, loops his hands around his thighs, squeezes once to watch the skin dimple. Yifan shivers, and Joonmyun slides forward to drag his chin down his throat.

There’s the phantom scrape of grains, too beneath Yifan’s fingernails as they skim along Joonmyun’s scalp in encouragement. The seashell bracelets on his wrists knock against Joonmyun’s temple, cheekbone, chin, and Joonmyun nuzzles into him further, loses himself in the ghost of coconut-scented sunscreen on his neck, the natural musk of his sweat, how he smells and feels and tastes like Joonmyun's love and home and escape.

It’s the sunshine or the smell of sea still clinging to his skin, or the white noise of crashing waves or the majesty of fathoms of water just just just on the horizon or the way that lazy, afternoon sun halos Yifan’s body or the thrill of potential discovery or the fact that Yifan feels like home or freedom maybe an escape. Because they’re not usually this reckless, or Joonmyun is usually better at holding back. And he had—had waited until they’d gotten into the car, shaken themselves relatively clean, had held back—because he’d wanted to take him right there on the sand, in front of all those sunglassed beach goers, wanted to spread him open on their Star Wars beach towel, fold his long, long legs to his chest and just fuck him _sobbing_.

Yifan smells like sand and salt and sea and sun and recklessness still, tastes like it too as he drags Joonmyun back to his mouth.

Joonmyun’s fingers stumble upwards to cup his face, palm curling over the sharp, beautiful cut of his jaw, the sharp, beautiful rise of as Yifan’s lips meet his.

The kiss is slow, sweet, utterly disarming. And Joonmyun indulges him for only a second before moving to his throat, nipping to feel the ripple of his moan.

His hands slide down his sides again, over the quiver of his spread, bare thighs.

Yifan’s own hands glide down Joonmyun’s back to rest on his as, squeeze him even closer. Joonmyun hisses into Yifan’s throat as the fabric of his trunks catches uncomfortably on his hardening cock.

Yifan shifts, and the drag, the painful friction has Joonmyun choking on a moan. Another has him practically whimpering, nipping at the sharp, sharp contours of Yifan's chest to distract himself.

And Joonmyun is drunk on the long, lean lines of him, the way he twists and trembles in Joonmyun’s arms, silently begging for more.

Joonmyun mouths lower, lifts Yifan’s legs over his shoulders. “Love you,” Yifan breathes, his hand soft and shaky and imploring, tender, tender, tender as it cradles his face. “Please touch me,” he continues. 

There’s sand too, on the crease of his ass. Joonmyun swipes it, lets his tongue drag on the thi sensitive skin of Yifan’s thighs as he squeezes them dimpling.

Yifan’s ass, in direct contrast to every other part of him, is small, but it’s a handful at least, enough to hold onto as Joonmyun lifts him bodily towards his mouth.

Yifan’s head crashes—probably painfully—against the door, and his entire body quivers as Joonmyun drops a succulent, fleeting kiss to his cock. The thin skin dances against his lips, pulses, and Joonmyun kisses it again, wetter, slower, swirling his tongue as he pins Yifan’s hips to the upholstery. 

Yifan shudders around a moan, and Joonmyun mouths lower, lips, tongue, teeth skimming the trembling pucker of Yifan’s rim. And Yifan shudders again, moans again, curses softly as he tugs Joonmyun’s hair _hard_.

Joonmyun groans, arches briefly into the sting, then curls forward to tease over the skin once more. 

“ _Please_.”

Joonmyun circles his tongue, eases, eases, eases him open, pushes, pushes, pushes, and it’s beautiful the way Yifan trembles and gasps for him, his long, lean, lean body melting back with the most ruined, wanting sound. 

Yifan tastes reckless still, sand, salt, sun, home, freedom, escape, his delicate, delicate muscles quivering against Joonmyun tongue, shuddery breath hitching with a ruined rasp of a whine. Joonmyun groans, spreads him even more open, grip tightening, groan deepening as he swipes harder, more thorough, wet, wet, wet, again and again and again.

Their car is too small, and Yifan’s head crashes against the door again, legs spasm and kick out against hte window, too. 

“Fuck,” he keeps chanting. “Fuck, Joonmyun. Fuck, fuck, _fuck_.”

His tremors are so heavy that their four door sedan rattles with the movement. His moans are even heavier yet, hitching, echoing, loud—too, too loud considering they can still hear the white noise of crashing waves, chattering sunbathers on the beach. 

“Quiet,” Joonmyun murmurs into his skin, punctuating the command with a broad, purposefully cruel lick. “Quiet. Careful.” 

Yifan whines in agreement, bites his lips hard, trembles as Joonmyun spears his tongue, works in back inside of him with sharp, sharp teasing touches. 

And oh, Yifan is best when he’s trying to hold back. He tastes like despair, too, like restraint, like desperate, like sweat and heat. 

“Please,” he says, and his hand stumbles to Joonmyun’s hair, too clumsy to be forceful, too imploring. His other hand stumbles over his cock, stroke shuddery and fast. “Please.” 

With his bitten lips and glazed eyes and heaving chest and quivering muscles and golden skin, pleading, pleading, _pleading_ , so gloriously wet and hot and needy, he’s impossible to resist, greedy for more. 

And Joonmyun, he’s just as greedy. He tips forward to fuck him wetter, hotter, needier, needier, needier, fisting his cock as he loses himself between his legs. 

Another half dozen licks, a lingering bite for Yifan to crumble with climax. Only Yifan’s rich, heavy moan, heavier tug, the inelegant stroke of Joonmyun’s own fingers on his cock for Joonmyun to follow, panting and moaning and biting into the soft, golden, still sand-dusted column of Yifan’s flushed, trembling thigh.

**Author's Note:**

> 3/11
> 
> "sand"


End file.
